


A Sunflower's Radiance

by eternalsession



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 15:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsession/pseuds/eternalsession





	1. Foreword.

Everything has a story.

For example, the wobbly lamp in a friend’s bedroom; purchased from a Goodfaith, in the state it was in. Once, they witnessed their friend’s brother kick it by mistake and now it’s supported with wooden blocks. A cheap and unsightly fix, but a fix nonetheless. However, these are not the stories the majority of people are interested in. ‘So, what, someone somewhere has a defective lamp? I don’t care.’ They want to read about things that are exciting, things that are more stimulating, more thrilling. This is why fiction is so enthralling, why in television and movies the inanest situations and circumstances occur; the point is not to tell something that can be realistic but rather something that would never happen. Something that could never happen. Yes, everything has a story. Every story can be interesting, even, if the author can spin it to be so. Layer on detail, extra information, what does it look like? Smell like? How do the actors interact with it? Since everything has a story, can it truly be said that any story is individual? Unique? Perhaps this whole paragraph to this point has been echoing what someone, somewhere, has already said. But who really cares? Plagiarism, is, of course, morally awful and should be called out if spotted, which no one should condone (least of all myself). However, the same ideas have been recycled time and time again; still each time viewers find themselves enthralled in the murder-mystery, the Laplace’s Demon, the retellings of the stories in Grimm’s Fairy Tales, and so on. Just because it has been done before, does not mean it cannot be done again. It all depends on how the author spins their tale. Since everything has a story, an author should never be afraid to tell theirs. Even if the actors have all exited stage left, even if there’s no one left in the audience, the show must go on.

Everything’s story deserves to be told.

 

10-15-17

for all the things left unspoken.


	2. lotus

The only way to improve is to continue to strike iron.

In a small café in the backstreets of a small town by the name of Lotus, a man stands alone. The pitter patter of the rain is the only thing that keeps him company. He sighs, not for his lack of customers, but for his lack of company. The reason he decided to open a café was for the patrons he would get to mingle with on a daily basis; alas, no company ever appeared on rainy days, save for those unfortunate souls who forgot their umbrellas or were caught unawares by sudden rain. Knowing there was nothing that could be done about it, he took a seat behind the bar and changed his music to something more fitting; _After Dark._

The gentle sounds of the piano mixed with the rain like paint on a palette. Maybe it was just him, but he always felt warm when it rained. Whenever he was melancholy, it seemed like the rain was there to share his sadness. Such a simple gesture, yet so kind. He supposed it was kind of childish to anthropomorphize rain, as there was no way the rain acted only for himself, but… well, he felt what he felt, and damn if anyone tried to rob him of that.

This is a man by the name of Neph Karim; ages ago, he had it changed in rebellion against his father, whom he was named after. He did consider that it seemed like very spoiled behavior, rebelling so against his father whom he owed so much to, but then again, most people didn’t care for the circumstances of the rich. He didn’t mind that so much, though being frank, it did annoy him that his struggles were written off due to his wealth. Money couldn’t buy self-esteem. Money couldn’t buy life lessons, nor could it buy common sense.

Looking at him closely, he was a veritable giant. He towered at six feet and six inches tall, though only after his final growth spurt some two years ago. It was a blessing and a curse. His cinnamon skin complimented his mocha eyes; it made him a popular target for those middle-aged patrons who came around every so often for his delicious brew. He wouldn’t quite call it cat-calling as it didn’t truly bother him and cat-calling is actually much heavier than what he dealt with, but he would frequently get comments on his looks from his patrons. It did put him in a compromising position, however; he truly did not like being the target of so much affection… at least, the kind of one-sided affection he was unable to reciprocate.

He had cycled through many hairstyles before he finally settled on dreadlocks; he had decided on them in high school, so they’d been growing for some four or five years now (as of March he was twenty-two years old). The point being: they were getting long, extending halfway down his back. He was just about ready to try something new with them, though he did like his hair as it was, he believed change was a revolving door. There was always something new to try and if he didn’t like it there were always more options. The long black dreadlocks look was getting old to him.

In terms of wardrobe, he usually dressed classy. Slacks and a blazer with either a turtleneck or a graphic tee for spring and fall (depending on how cool it is), thick joggers with a thin hoodie and a heavy winter coat for winter, a short-sleeve hoodie and shorts or ankle cut pants for summer. While he had many outfits, they were all something similar. Let it not be said that his sense of style was even slightly off-kilter. While he was behind the counter, he wore a simple button-up shirt (usually either a light brown or white), leaving the first two buttons loose and the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His shirt was tucked into black pants, fastened with a belt. On his feet he wore slippers while inside the shop, but if he had to leave, he put on a nice pair of black dress shoes. Overtop his café attire, he wore a long, dark brown apron with the name of the shop embroidered on the chest.

Shaking himself out of his daze, he turned to his phone to keep himself busy. He had more than a few missed messages that he hadn’t been able to get to due to work. He read the backlog of his group chat in his messages, quietly chuckling about some of the things they shared. This continued for some time—it was the only way for him to pass time without leaving the bar. He sent a message to his group chat, though no response came. They have jobs, he supposes. Well, most of them do. Some of them just have horrible sleep schedules, though that’s beside his point.

After being essentially isolated from contact with anyone, hearing the bell on his door jingle as someone entered gave him a pleasant surprise. To make matters even better, it was a person he had never seen before. A tall woman, easily clearing six feet, long silver hair, porcelain skin, and clear blue eyes. She was wearing a simple grey sweatshirt (on the front was a reference to a book series he’d read) with black adidas joggers and grey sneakers. To make light of his reaction, he was captivated. Regaining himself quickly, he rose from his seat and gave her a proper greeting. After exchanging pleasantries and placing an order, she took a seat at the bar.

“Did you get caught in the rain? You did come in with an umbrella, but around these parts people keep to themselves while it’s raining.”

The girl chuckled. “I wanted to stop by here. Odd choice for you to outfit a café in this back alley. Do you even want customers?”

“It’s not as if I want to hide my shop away, but ambience is everything. This is just the perfect corner of the world for me.” As he finished brewing her coffee, he poured it into a mug and added sugar, cream, and a drop of vanilla. Setting it down in front of her, he offered a gentle smile. “I’m Neph. Welcome to The Lovers.”


End file.
